


The L-Word

by OtterlyDeerlightful



Series: Lifemates AU [12]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Feels, Glanni just has a stupid 'pet name' for it because he's a doof, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naked Fluff, Oh dear nakedness, Recovery, Sex-related banter, serious injury, yes they're talking about a blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyDeerlightful/pseuds/OtterlyDeerlightful
Summary: Glanni is nearly killed. Now he must confront his feelings for a particularly annoying elf that happened to pull him from the jaws of death just in time.





	1. Then

He could still taste the blood. No matter how much he spit, it was still there. Things could be worse, though, he supposed. At least he was still alive enough that he _could_ taste the nasty fluid. The screaming pain in his legs and chest, though? Those he wished he could no longer feel. Death or unbearable pain? It was a hard one to call.

Glanni almost considered trying to send a message to Robbie, but that carried with it a set of problems: one, what would his poor Sugarplum be able to do outside of panic and worry?  Two, it took to much energy to send a message in the first place when one was, well, _dying_ in a pool of their own blood. And three, the most Glanni was sure he would be able to ‘write’ would probably just end up being a bloody handprint and some snot on a piece of paper, and what in the world would _that_ accomplish?

 _This is how I die,_ he realized as his fingers closed around something that had once been part of one of his nicer gowns. Somehow, this sad end seemed fitting. Beaten, bloody, broken…surrounded by the few things he had managed to obtain over his miserable lifetime…and some kind of putrid smell stinging his nostrils. Oh…that was gasoline. Lovely. That didn’t bode well. Yes, he was going to die. Glanni wheezed as he craned his neck to try and see where the gasoline might be seeping in from. Those bastards. Can’t even let a man die with dignity…had to turn him into a piece of fried chicken on top of everything else. He let his shattered body go limp on the cold cement floor. What was the point of exerting energy when he didn’t have the strength to escape anyway?

Oh, Glanni would give anything to see his little Cupcake again. Hug him, tell him how proud he was of the man Robbie had become. How long would it take Robbie to find out that his cousin was gone? He desperately tried to remember the last letter he had sent…what had he said? He hoped it hadn’t been something stupid. It probably was. Glanni just wanted to see him again. Hell, he even wished he could see that damned stupid elf again, even just once. Glanni hadn’t seen ĺþróttaálfurinn in so long. He briefly wondered where the hero was. Safe, he hoped. Stupid fucking elf. Too bad they both were who they were, or maybe things might have turned out differently. Like his little Butterscotch and their doofy blue hero. At least those two had one another. Robbie would be fine, Glanni decided. The boy didn’t need Glanni anymore.

The room felt so warm. It probably had something to do with the crackling sounds he could hear nearby, and probably the dark smoke that was slowly obscuring his view of the ceiling. Despite the heat, Glanni felt…cold. He could still taste blood. At least Robbie would be okay. He wondered what ĺþrót would do in his spare time without having Glanni to worry about. The fae let the searing pain overtake him and he closed his eyes.

*~*~*~*~

A chilled breeze whipped over his features, carrying with it a leaf that saw fit to slap Glanni’s eyelid. He winced and the offensive bit of detritus fled. Glanni reluctantly opened his eyes. Where was he? And why wasn’t he in agonizing pain? Aw shit. He was dead, wasn’t he? No, wait. There was still pain…just a whole lot less of it. His mind felt a big sluggish yet, and one of his eyelids felt incredibly swollen. Okay, maybe he was alive. He tried to move and whined from the immediate bolt of pain that streaked through his torso. Yep, definitely alive.

“Glanni?”

There was a blur of motion of to his left. The large, mustard-colored mass that had barely registered in his mind as scenery had spun around at the sound of his cry to reveal a pair of very big and very worried blue eyes. The fae stared, convinced that his weary and confused brain was playing some kind of cruel trick on him.

“ĺþrót?” he ventured, immediately disgusted with how hoarse his voice sounded.

“You’re awake,” the elf breathed in obvious relief. “Oh, thank the heavens you’re awake.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn wrapped his arms around the frail man. He was careful not to squeeze or jostle the injured fae, but he couldn’t deny himself the cathartic touch now that he knew Glanni would be alright. Glanni, meanwhile, couldn’t seem to process what was happening to him yet.

“Where—?”

Glanni’s eyes darted around, finally beginning to take in his surroundings. Blue sky, taught canvas looming overhead, firm yet soft mattress below, warm blanket draped over him, insulating him from the otherwise cool air.

“Your balloon?” he mumbled in realization.

ĺþrót sat back on his heels, taking Glanni’s left hand in both of his. Reflexively, he kissed the back of the fae’s hand and sighed, bowing his head and holding the man’s hand to his forehead. Glanni laid there in stunned silence.

“I was so worried you might not…” the elf whispered in a quivering voice. “By the gods, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so scared…”

The criminal stared at the man kneeling by his side. Glanni’s mind was still a little slow, but it was beginning to catch up. And it was shocked to hear the hero’s tearful words. Had ĺþrót saved him? His memory was fuzzy…he had smelled the gas, felt the fire, and then…nothing.

“What happened?”

ĺþrót wiped his eyes, still keeping one hand wrapped gently around Glanni’s long fingers.

“That’s what I should be asking you,” the hero chuckled tearfully. “M-my crystal went off…oh god, Glanni. I could see you just lying there. I thought you were…” ĺþróttaálfurinn took a deep breath. “I healed you as much as I could. I’ll try to do more in a little bit. I’m just…I’m just so glad you’re alive. Wh-what happened, Glanni?”

The fae looked away, gazing down at the white-and-yellow blanket on top of him. He ached all over, but hey, at least he didn’t taste any blood. That was a good thing. And aches were better than blinding pain any day.

“I screwed up,” he admitted, trying to get his voice box to cooperate. “Stole from some thieves. Mistake one. They found out where I lived. Mistake two. And, I thought I could handle them myself. Mistake three. You know, the usual bullshit.”

ĺþrót's eyes were wide. “Glanni, you…you _lived_ there? It was a crumbling warehouse.”

“You live in a basket and I don’t make comments about it!” the criminal snapped in immediate reply.

“You make fun all the time!” ĺþrót laughed before returning to a much more somber tone. “Glanni, I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I…were you there this entire time?”

Glanni still couldn’t meet his eyes. “Not the _entire_ time.”

ĺþrót gave the fae’s hand a small squeeze while Glanni tried to process what little information was available to him. It was difficult trying to hold a conversation while his brain simultaneously attempted to play catch-up with everything that had happened while he was unconscious. Fire. Pain. ĺþrót finding him. Basket. Crying elf with sweaty palms who won’t let go of his hand. Yeah, that…seemed a decent summary of things so far.

“It’s all gone, isn’t it?” Glanni asked as he realized what the progression of events meant.

ĺþróttaálfurinn's silence answered his question well enough.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Glanni sighed, wincing at the pain in his chest. “There goes my wardrobe.” _Not to mention Robbie’s drawings…how can I ever replace those…?_

“I’ll get you new clothes.”

No hesitation. Just insistence.

“ĺþrót, you pulled me out of a burning fucking building. I think you’ve reached your good deed quota for the day.”

“Glanni…”

The fae finally looked over at the man speaking to him. Oh, he shouldn’t have done that. Glanni was immediately taken in by ĺþrót’s gorgeously shining eyes, his silly little mustache, that stupid, idiotically floppy hat, and…was he growing his beard out again? Oh, the ridiculous little stubble was too charming for words.

Despite it all, the hero looked so…sad. Was that the word? No, it was deeper than that. Glanni knew that look; he had worn the same expression often as Robbie grew up. Every time the boy scraped a knee or encountered a bully that made him cry. It was a look of perpetual care and concern wrapped in a fine layer of helplessness as you watched the one you loved most suffer. And for the first time in his life, that look was directed squarely at him. And it came from ĺþróttaálfurinn.

Glanni relented. “A…a new cat suit would be nice,” he heard himself whisper.

ĺþrót only nodded. The elf gave his hand another squeeze. Glanni wrapped his long fingers around the hero’s still gross-and-sweaty hand. He felt very confused all of a sudden, and he knew it wasn’t from a head injury. There were so many times he had run from the elf, so many times that he cursed the hero’s appearance in his life. But other times, _this_ time…

“I’m glad you’re here,” Glanni said quietly.

ĺþrót couldn’t help but hide his smile hearing those words. He feigned brushing an invisible bit of dirt from the fae’s cheek, clearly needing the physical contact. Glanni decided not to call him on it.

“I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Glanni smiled, nodding down at himself. “You call this alright?” he accused teasingly. “I look like a pile of shit that’s been dragged through hell.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn chuckled, glad to see Glanni’s sense of humor was still intact.

“Better than dead,” he pointed out. Then, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. This sort of magic’s never been my strongest skill.”

“Oh, bullshit. You’ve literally crawled out of a television like some kind of a dipshit monster in a horror movie before, so don’t try and pull that I-suck-at-magic cock on me."

“That’s…different,” ĺþrót said with a furrowed brow. “Pictures aren’t…alive.”

Glanni didn’t like seeing the troubled look in the elf’s eyes. He didn’t understand. He was fine; why was ĺþrót still so upset? Glanni was sure he had been through worse scrapes before. He couldn’t think of a specific example at the moment, but one had to exist, right?

“Look, ĺþrót, I appreciate the— _Oh sweet baby Jesus!_ ” the man cried in sudden agony, having made the foolish mistake to try and sit up to continue their conversation.

The hero was on his feet in an instant. “Glanni, stay down! I don’t want you breaking anything again! B-by the gods, are you alright?” they cried, hands hanging in midair and unsure what the best course of action should be to help without hurting the fae more.

“Just peachy,” Glanni hissed through clenched teeth. “All sparkles and rainbows, how about you?”

“It’s not funny.”

As the pain slowly subsided to a more tolerable level, Glanni realized something that disturbed him more deeply that perhaps anything he had ever seen before. The hero had tears in his eyes. No, one of them was rolling down his cheek now instead. The stupid elf was crying…over him? Something twisted inside and Glanni didn’t like it. This wasn’t right. Nothing about this was right.

“ĺþrót…what on earth? I…” Glanni wasn’t sure what to say other than “Why?”

It took ĺþróttaálfurinn a second to decode what the injured man was asking. He looked away, sitting down on the edge of Glanni’s cot for lack of anything else to do.

“I’d never seen you so bad before. When I got there, I thought you…I thought I was too late. I don’t want to see you like that again. I can’t.”

The pair were engulfed in a thick silence after that, the only sound between them being the soft whistle of the occasional breeze. ĺþrót had calmed, though he still looked deeply troubled. He seemed to be fiddling with an old patch on his pants, though Glanni couldn’t see very well from his low angle. The criminal was too distracted by his own thoughts anyway.

“We’ve never been good at this, have we?”

Glanni looked up. “What do you mean?”

ĺþróttaálfurinn gave a small shrug. “Each other. Whatever _this_ is…”

He understood. “No, you’re fine,” the fae sighed as he turned his head to study the suddenly enthralling weave that made up the balloon’s basket. “I’m the one who’s shit at relationships. You’re…you’re perfect.”

ĺþrót looked over at Glanni in surprise. The fae pretended not to notice. He was still too wrapped up in the intricacies of the basket weave anyway. The hero swallowed, then forced himself to look at the floor.  More silence.

“I’m sorry I’m a hero,” came a quiet whisper.

“I’m sorry I’m…me.”

ĺþrót closed his eyes. “You’re wonderful, Glanni, especially when you want to be. I’ve seen it. P-please don’t speak so lowly of yourself.”

Wonderful?  Had Glanni heard that right? He tried to sneak a peek at the elf sitting beside him. ĺþrót was so close to him. He could just reach out, pull him over. He could…he could…

Glanni frowned, his eyes focusing on ĺþróttaálfurinn’s back. The elf’s shirt was filthy, and was that a tear? ĺþrót never stayed in dirty clothes if he could help it. Sure, all he seemed to own were clones of the same uniform, but he _did_ change his outfit when needed. Glanni looked closer. That wasn’t just regular dirt…that was soot.

The criminal looked down at himself, gently lifting the edge of the blanket. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. All he was wearing was a pair of ĺþrót’s extra pants. His torso was covered in gauze patches and dark bruises, but what skin he could see was completely clean. His left leg was in a splint, and all scrapes that he could see looked to be completely sanitized and bandaged accordingly. Yet ĺþrót still wore his torn, soot-covered clothes. Stupid goddamn elf.

“No,” the injured man mumbled softly as he released the blanket. “ _You’re_ wonderful.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Glanni.”

“Yeah I do, and you’re not convincing me otherwise.” Glanni put a hand to his forehead. “Thank you for saving my life, ĺþrót.”

A pause.

“You would have done the same for me.”

Glanni snorted. “You say that with such confidence.”

The hero nodded, eyes still firmly on the floor of his basket.

“You’re a bad influence,” Glanni sighed as his eyes tried to drill holes into the back of ĺþrót’s stupid fat head. “Yeah, I…I would have. I’d be cursing your damned existence the entire time but…you’re right. Some villain I am, eh?”

He could see the hero’s broad shoulders relax as he spoke. Was that a sniffle he heard? What a bizarre day this was turning out to be. Glanni wasn’t sure if he was equipped to deal with this conversation. His own imminent death? Sure; that was an inevitability. But this? …he wasn’t good with things like this.

“ĺþrót. ĺþrót, look at me.”

The elf’s subtle attempt at wiping his eyes before turning around was not lost on Glanni. ĺþróttaálfurinn's eyes were still wet, but bright, and the criminal nearly melted at the sight of the dopey elf’s hopeful smile. Why did he have to look like that?

“Help me move over,” Glanni demanded with a nod toward the basket wall.

ĺþrót frowned in bewilderment, but did as he was asked. He gently helped the fae shift himself closer to the wall without jostling his numerous injuries too badly. Glanni hissed as he moved, but didn’t seem all too bothered by the pain. It was nothing compared to everything else he had been through over the last twenty-four hours; he was fine.

“Now lay down,” Glanni sighed, patting the mattress next to him.

ĺþróttaálfurinn stared at him.

“Don’t make me ask you again, you stupid elf,” Glanni commanded. “Hold me, damnit.”

No further insistence was needed. ĺþróttaálfurinn squeezed himself onto the thin strip of mattress left open for him. He draped an arm lightly over Glanni’s chest, trying his best to avoid the fae’s tender bruises and sore ribs. He nestled close to the thin man, evidently feeling confident enough to hide his nose in Glanni’s neck. The fae stifled a giggle at feeling ĺþrót’s chin stubble brushing against his bare shoulder.

“I’ve missed you,” Glanni admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared up at the blue sky beyond the balloon looming overhead.

ĺþrót silently nodded into Glanni’s shoulder in agreement.

“I wanted to see you. Y-you and Robbie. That’s all I wanted. I didn’t think I was going to make it out of…” Glanni exhaled slowly as he attempted to steady his emotions as much as he could. “I’m sorry I ran.”

The elf’s face finally emerged from its hiding place. The hero looked stunned by the apology, his mouth twitching as he tried and failed to come up with the proper response. “I’m sorry I _always_ run,” Glanni whimpered.

ĺþróttaálfurinn stroked the man’s cheek. “Don’t be,” he whispered. “Don’t be. I…I’m sorry I pushed you. I should have known it would be too much. I’m sorry.”

Glanni felt his chin quivering but couldn’t seem to get it to stop. He swallowed and tried to clench his jaw, but it didn’t help. Stupid fucking elf. This was all his fault.

“I just…I can’t,” Glanni heard himself whimper. “I want to. I…I want to stay,” he admitted. “But I can’t. I can’t, ĺþrót.”

“ _Shhh_. It’s alright, Glanni. I know. I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s _not_ alright!” he yelled, pounding a weak fist against the basket as he looked away. Oh God. His right hand was in agony. Oh, that was a bad decision. He breathed through his teeth for a moment as ĺþrót looked on worriedly.

“Glanni? Are you alri—?”

“I’m not supposed to be with someone like you,” Glanni interrupted quietly.

“Glanni,” ĺþrót whispered gently, “You deserve to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted…for you to be happy.”

The criminal was barely holding himself together at ĺþróttaálfurinn’s words. He lost his grip entirely when he felt the elf’s lips press lightly against his neck. Glanni began to full-out sob. Tears sprung to his eyes in an instant, as though the little bastards had been ready and waiting for just such an occasion. His shoulders heaved with the effort. It hurt. Oh piss did it hurt, but he couldn’t seem to stop. If anything, his screaming ribs and seizing muscles only fueled his emotional breakdown. ĺþrót, meanwhile, was busy being overwhelmed with worry over the fae’s broken body.

“Glanni! Glanni, no. _Shhh_. Please, stop crying,” the elf begged in a panic as he watched Glanni cry out in a terrible fusion of emotional and physical pain. “Stop crying! Your ribs! Glanni, you’re hurt enough. _Please!_ Oh, Glanni…”

The elf cupped Glanni’s cheek in his warm palm, cooing and whispering desperately to try and calm the man before his hurt himself too badly. His opposite hand supported the fae’s neck while he delivered gentle kisses to Glanni’s forehead.

“I—I can’t,” Glanni whined as he tried and failed to steady his breathing. “I can’t, _I can’t_!”

“ _Shhh, shhh_ ,” ĺþrót whispered as he cradled his patient. “It’s alright, Glanni. Pretend I never said anything. It doesn’t matter.”

“It…it does,” the weak man cried, his voice a bit softer now, his body leaning into the stupid elf that held him. It felt so nice. Glanni took in a deep breath. “I don’t deserve to be happy, ĺþrót.”

“Yes you do,” the hero responded without hesitation.

“I’m evil,” Glanni countered while he tried to hide his snot-ruined face in the other’s man’s shoulder. ĺþrót’s shirt was a mess anyway; it could stand a little mucus in the mix.

ĺþróttaálfurinn refused to let go. “No, you’re a criminal,” he corrected. “There’s a difference between being a criminal and being _evil_. You may do… _unsavory_ things, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be good when you want to.”

Glanni sniffled. “You’re the only person who’s ever believed in me,” Glanni whispered as his fingers gripped the elf’s sleeve as tightly as they could.

“I think Robbie would take offense to that.”

“That’s different.”

“On the contrary. I think he’s evidence.”

“Evidence?” Glanni asked with a scowl.

ĺþrót nodded. “That you’re secretly a good man.”

Glanni was quiet after that, save for a few sniffles and small whimpers. Everything hurt, inside and out. He wanted to believe the hero’s words. But it was hard. After the life he had lead…it was so hard. So much could be chalked up to just doing what he needed to survive, but others…so many others…

“I’ve seen you do terrible things, Glanni. But I’ve seen you do good as well. Your duality is what attracted me to you in the first place. You’re brilliant, you know. Brilliant and wonderful.” ĺþróttaálfurinn carefully hugged the man and kissed his temple. “I always look forward to the next time I see you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

And why’s that?”

“I’ve ruined your reputation. I’m…I’m a stain on your perfect record. Don’t try to deny it. I saw how everyone at the wedding looked at us. Looked at you. If you keep finding me they’re going to kick you out of your little heroes club. You deserve better than that. You deserve some squeaky-clean yoga instructor who will make you stupid protein shakes in the morning or some shit, not a dick like me.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn hummed in a bit of soft laughter. “Well, first of all, I _like_ your dick.”

Glanni blinked and stared at the man, clearly caught off-guard by the comment. It took a minute, but Glanni found himself weakly smiling and shaking his head before hiding his face once more in ĺþrót’s dirty shirt.

“Secondly, I don’t want a shake-making yoga instructor. I want you. I don’t care what the council or anyone else thinks, Glanni. I’m my own man. If they want to be near-sighted and take away my title, then so be it. Nothing will change. It’s just a number. It took me a while to figure that out, and…I don’t need it. Whether I’m _Númer Tíu_ or just a crazy elf with a balloon, I’ll still be helping people, and I’ll still love you.”

The fae stopped breathing for a second. No, no, not again. Why did he have to say it again? Stupid goddamn elf. Fucking emotions. Glanni sniffled, curling into ĺþrót’s chest.

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” he squeaked.

“I’m sorry,” ĺþrót sighed, the disappointment obvious in his tone. “I forgot myself.”

Stupid. Everything was fucking stupid. Why did he have to care so much? Why did the hero have to sound so goddamn sad? He didn’t want ĺþróttaálfurinn to be sad. How could he wear his beautiful smile if he was sad? Glanni hated this. He didn’t want to…but he should—he _had_ to. The criminal let out a ragged breath that ended in a pitiful squeak of sorrow.

“I can’t love you, ĺþrót.”

“I know,” was the downtrodden reply. “It’s alright. I underst—”

“ _No_ , you don’t understand. So j-just shut up for a minute.”

The elf fell silent and Glanni tried to prepare himself for what felt like the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. He didn’t feel well. Maybe he would throw up, distract ĺþróttaálfurinn, and they could forget this horrible conversation ever happened in the first place. Too bad Lady Luck hated him with an undying passion.

“It’s a strong word. It…it means things. And not just what you’re probably thinking in that big, stupid head of yours. It…it means that y-you have a weak point. You can be manipulated. It…means that person can get hurt, all because you give a damn about them.” Glanni swallowed; his saliva suddenly felt as thick as molasses in his throat.

“Why do you think I never told you about Robbie? I’ve worked so hard to keep him out of harm’s way for all these years. J-just being at his wedding like that was a risk, but I couldn’t just… It always killed me to be away, but I had no choice b-because no one could find out about him. Not even if I trusted someone. No one could know. B-because if anyone knew I cared about someone, if they found my little Cupcake…” Glanni shuddered. “Or if they had known that I loved…” It took him a moment to speak again. His voice shook. “It could have been you on that warehouse floor. H-how could I look myself in the mirror if it was you in there instead of me?”

Glanni felt ĺþróttaálfurinn’s muscular arms swallow him. The man hooked his bristly chin over Glanni’s shoulder, his temple resting just behind the fae’s ear. One of them was trembling, though Glanni wasn’t entirely sure who. He could hear something, and he could swear that the elf might be crying again. Glanni didn’t dare ask; he wouldn’t be able to handle the answer right now if he did. All the injured man could do was wrap a weak, bandaged arm around the hero’s frame in a pathetic attempt at comfort.

He didn’t want to love ĺþrót. His life was complicated and dangerous enough without the stupid monkey wrench of a hero being thrown into the mix. No, he didn’t want to love the elf at all. But he did. Glanni loved him. He loved him so much it physically hurt. Or, maybe that was just his new collection of broken bones and other injuries. It didn’t really matter.


	2. Now

“Glanni, please.”

“No.”

“Glanni.”

“Bite me, elf.”

“Only if you try.”

Glanni glared. “Touché.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn held his arms out where he stood. “It’s just a few steps.”

“That’s what you said a few steps ago,” the fae complained as he leaned on his crutch and attempted to move forward. “You know, this would be a hell of a lot less nerve-racking if we weren’t a million feet in the air!”

“Just one more walk across and I’ll leave you be.”

Glanni rolled his eyes. “Why do I not believe _that_ for one second?” he grumbled. “You’re the nosiest, most meddling elf I’ve ever met.

ĺþrót laughed and shook his head. “Just come here.”

Glanni grumbled, but managed to slowly hobble his way across the basket toward the elf with that giant, stupid grin plastered on his face. Despite ĺþrót’s relentless, borderline obnoxious encouragement, Glanni was happy to lean into the hero’s arms upon arrival…anything to avoid supporting his own weight right now. Besides, it felt nice. ĺþrót gave him a kiss on the forehead as a reward for his efforts.

ĺþróttaálfurinn had insisted that Glanni try to do some minimal exercise during his recovery, insisting it would help his muscles and the healing process so long as they didn’t overdo it. Like Glanni would ever over exert himself even at the peak of health. Glanni had adamantly refused to see an actual doctor, going so far as to threaten further bodily harm upon himself if ĺþrót tried to go against his wishes. With such strict limitations set for him, the hero insisted on doing all that he could to care for the man alone. It was annoying, and the elf was a bit overbearing at times, but the criminal trusted him and, even if it was after a long and tiring argument, tended to submit to his self-proclaimed nurse’s demands.

“You promised a bite.”

“What fun would it be if I did it now when you were expecting it?” ĺþróttaálfurinn whispered in his ear.

Glanni grinned and nuzzled into the elf’s collar. “You know me too well.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn helped Glanni sit back down on the nearby bed and sprang back into action without another word. The two had managed to work out some semblance of a routine during the fortnight Glanni had spent recovering, and the fae was looking forward to what he knew was coming next.

He began to carefully undress himself—which still consisted primarily of ĺþrót’s extra pair of too-short pants—and began to wrap his still delicate leg in plastic to cover the splint holding it. The elf, meanwhile, was busy hauling up buckets of water from the lake far below. Glanni’s half of the preparations were painfully slow. His dominant hand was still mostly out of commission, though getting better, and it seemed to interfere with things a lot more than he had expected. By the time he finished, ĺþróttaálfurinn had his bath warmed and ready for him.

The first few times, Glanni had felt humiliated knowing that he needed the elf’s help to so much as bathe himself. Now he could opening admit that he rather liked the attention; it almost made him feel like a king. And it was a wonderful excuse to feel ĺþróttaálfurinn’s hands over every inch of his body. Glanni knew that he was at a point where he could probably handle washing by himself, but he didn’t dare declare it. Besides, he got the feeling ĺþrót already knew himself.

He propped his injured leg outside of the tub and slowly lowered himself into the soothing water. He sighed and leaned back not to find the smooth tub wall, but a gentle, calloused hand that was keeping him annoyingly upright.

“What gives?” the fae demanded, trying to look over his shoulder.

“ _Færðu._ ”

Glanni did his best to scoot forward in the water without pulling or jarring anything important. He soon felt a warm body slide down behind him, causing the water to reach up toward his shoulders. ĺþrót reached around and wrapped the man in a gentle embrace, and rested his chin on Glanni’s shoulder with a contented sigh.

“I don’t know what the occasion is, but I rather like the new development,” Glani laughed as he leaned back into ĺþróttaálfurinn’s solid—bare, wet—chest. He wiggled back as far as he could and felt a giggle in his throat as he felt something pressing against his lower back. “And I can tell you do, too,” he teased.

The hero purred lightly as he brushed his tiny excuse of a beard along Glanni’s neck to reposition himself for a small nibble on the man’s closest ear. Glanni closed his eyes and contented himself to listen to the elf’s gentle heartbeat behind him. He loved moments like this. Quiet, relaxing time spent in his stupid ĺþrót’s strong yet surprisingly gentle arms, listening to the comforting _thump thump_ from deep within the man’s chiseled chest.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” ĺþróttaálfurinn hummed.

“I do it to get you off my case,” Glanni teased quietly. “You’re pushy, you know that?”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Asshole,” was the best response Glanni could come up with on the spot, considering how true the statement was. “I think I deserve a treat for putting up with all your healthy bullshit for so long.”

“You do, do you?” the hero purred as he sucked on Glanni’s earlobe, causing a shiver to run down the criminal’s spine.

“I _do_ ,” he insisted. “I’ve been stuck in your literal basket case of a home for, like, two weeks now, and this is the closest I’ve gotten to having my fuck card punched! Do you know how agonizing that’s been? What with you doing your little elf stretches so your ass is in my face at all hours of the day? It’s torture!”

“Sounds terrible. Too bad you’re still healing.”

Glanni pulled away and hissed from the sting caused by the sudden jolt. “Hey! I’m not on death’s door anymore! I deserve a little buttfuck time!”

ĺþróttaálfurinn gently pulled the fae back into position. “How about a compromise?” he asked, ignoring Glanni’s groan and speaking over the man’s immediate complaints. “You have some of my nice, _healthy_ soup for dinner, and I’ll kiss the injustice better for you.”

Glanni’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Promise?”

“Promise. Nothing rough until you’re better…but that I can do. I think you _do_ deserve it.”

“Hot damn, Christmas came early!” Glanni laughed loudly.

“Just so long as you don’t,” ĺþrót teased.

Glanni craned his neck to kiss at the elf’s fuzzy chin. “Look at you, all cute and corrupted. I’m such a bad influence on you and I couldn’t be prouder!”

The remainder of the bath was warm and relaxing. Glanni nearly fell asleep against ĺþróttaálfurinn’s chest as the elf gently caressed the fae’s body with a soapy yellow cloth. Who would have thought such calloused hands could feel like silk? If this is what happened after almost buying the farm, Glanni needed to make sure to have a few more close calls in the near future.

The fae whined in protest when the strong man finally left the tub himself, then again as they helped Glanni get out and dry the areas he still had some trouble reaching. With that finished, ĺþrót scooped the cranky criminal into his arms and carried him back to the bed.

“After all that fuss about how I should try and stay moving and walk around your stupid basket, you go and carry me? Really?”

“I couldn’t resist,” ĺþrót giggled as he set the man down and started unwrapping Glanni’s leg.

The fae leaned back into the soft mattress and down pillow. “Alright. _That_ I can understand. My body _is_ rather irresistible, after all,” he yawned. “Kind of like this,” he teased as he reached out and pinched the elf’s still-bare behind.

ĺþrót gave him a look over his shoulder. Glanni stuck out his tongue. The hero rolled his eyes and spun around so he could better kiss the mischievous little fae. Glanni arched his neck, leaning into the feel of the elf’s soft lips. He pouted when ĺþróttaálfurinn pulled away.

“What color for today?” he whispered before showering his patient with additional smaller kisses to their forehead and cheek.

Glanni hummed in contentment. “Let’s spice things up, shall we? How about pink and gold?”

ĺþróttaálfurinn laughed. “You’re trusting me with _two_ colors now? Does that mean I’m getting better?”

“You’ve been putting in a lot of practice,” Glanni complimented.

The athletic man pulled a leather drawstring pouch out from under the bed. He sifted through its contents carefully, taking out a small selection of choices of various shades of eyeshadow and lipstick for Glanni to choose from. He also fished out a bit of blush and foundation, a little proud of himself for finally being able to identify them from the jumble of cosmetic products in his lap.

As much as Glanni missed painting his own face, he loved the feel of ĺþrót tenderly applying the limited collection of makeup whenever he desired. The elf didn’t know much about cosmetics, but he was learning and, truth be told, Glanni was touched that ĺþróttaálfurinn had offered to do it for him at all. What made his cold little heart flutter all the more was recalling the first time the elf had produced that little bag of makeup for him.

“I didn’t know you wore anything!” Glanni had laughed. “What else have you been keeping from me?”

“I don’t, actually,” the elf had admitted. “They’re yours. I…figured you might want them back some day. So, I kept them for you.”

Glanni hadn’t been sure how to respond to that. Sure, he and the hero had had the occasional sexy sleepover, even a couple weekend marathons in ĺþrót’s little flying basket of fun. And, yeah, Glanni knew that he had a tendency to misplace a brush here or a bit of primer there…but he’d never imagined he had left so much of it with the hero. Or that ĺþrót would take care of it while waiting for his return. In the end, the fae had ended up trying to suppress a touched whimper and simply demanded that ĺþrót spill the bag’s contents so he could reclaim what was rightfully his own.

“What color goes where?” the elf asked as he finished priming his patient’s soft eyelids, happy to see that the swelling was barely noticeable now.

Glanni hummed in thought. “How about…gold on top, pink on the bottom. Go crazy. It’s not like I’m going out and impressing anyone tonight.”

“What about me?” ĺþrót asked, pretending to feel hurt as he picked up the bit of eyeshadow.

“What _about_ you? We’re sitting in your bed bareass naked after having a bath together. I think I’m done trying to impress you, you stupid dick.”

“Such language,” ĺþróttaálfurinn teased as he carefully began to apply the sunflowery hue. It wasn’t exactly _gold_ , but Glanni had approved of the selection anyway. Besides, ĺþrót liked it.

The fae, all injuries considered, looked like he was in heaven. He leaned forward, eyes closed and ready for the hero as a slight smile tugged at the corners of his soft lips. ĺþrót took in the sight of the beautiful man. Glanni was so handsome, even without his ‘war paint’ as the fae so often called his makeup.

ĺþrót didn’t dare admit to Glanni that the last two weeks had been agonizing for him as well, or he was sure that he would never hear the end of it. He wanted the gorgeous criminal, sure, but other things were more important right now. ĺþrót needed to make sure Glanni was fully healed before they tried any of that. The fae’s health was his top priority right now. He needed to make sure his sweetly hostile companion was alright.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Glanni scolded.

“Huh?”

“You’re dead quiet. I know you can’t be concentrating _that_ hard on eyeshadow, so you’re probably busy overthinking something ridiculous, and it’s distracting.”

The elf chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to think a little quieter.”

“You do that.”

ĺþrót set the yellow powder aside and picked up the pink. He would have to blend the colors in the middle, wouldn’t he? He wasn’t sure if he could do that without messing things up entirely. It would be interesting, to say the least.

“So what were you thinking about?”

ĺþrót shrugged. “Oh, you know, typical _stupid elf_ things.”

Glanni scoffed. “Well _that_ was a given! What kind of stupid elf things?”

The hero couldn’t help but grin. “Just how silly fairies can be when they’re all nestled in bed getting their makeup done.”

Glanni whistled through his nose in amusement, trying not to move as ĺþróttaálfurinn carefully blended his makeup. “And what about _half_ -fairies?” he asked.

He was first answered by a pair of moist lips tapping fleetingly against his own.

“They’re even sillier.”

“Such brash insults, ĺþróttaálfurinn!” Glanni said in mock hurt. “If you’re going to talk about me that way maybe I should just leave.”

“Pink for the lipstick?” the hero asked, unbothered by the comments. He was just happy he hadn’t messed up the poor man’s makeup yet.

Glanni’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled, beaming up at his nurse’s handsome face. ĺþrót was too busy grabbing for a lipstick tube to notice. He puckered his lips and tried not to laugh while the man attempted to apply the pale color.

ĺþrót gently slid the pink stick over the fae’s lips. He was always exceedingly careful with Glanni’s lipstick. He wanted to make sure he followed the contours of the criminal’s lips just right. Glanni had told him that there was something called _lip liner_ that could help with that, but unfortunately, there hadn’t been any left behind for ĺþróttaálfurinn to add to his bag.

He would have to buy some. Glanni had insisted that ‘the shit-stupid elf’ should go down and buy some new groceries time and time again, probably because he was growing sick of ĺþrót’s healthful selection. The hero had brushed off the criminal’s suggestions, sometimes clumsily, but…maybe he would be able to visit a town soon. Glanni was doing much better now. ĺþróttaálfurinn didn’t have to worry so terribly that something might happen to his fae while he was away. He could surprise Glanni with his lip liner, the new cat suit he had promised, maybe a few other nice things to replace some of what the man had lost…

“Done,” ĺþrót announced, allowing Glanni to purse their lips while he put the makeup away.

“So am I gorgeous yet?”

The hero blushed. “You already were,” he mumbled sheepishly before handing Glanni a mirror.

“Flatterer,” Glanni teased, though his own cheeks felt as warm as ĺþrót’s looked. He admired his appearance in the mirror with a wide grin.

“Thanks, by the way. Nails next?” Glanni looked up at the elf and promptly gasped when he saw ĺþróttaálfurinn already opening a matching bottle of pink nail polish. “This is why I keep your around!” he squealed in delight.

“Oh, _this_ is why?” ĺþróttaálfurinn asked with a cheeky smile as the fae eagerly splayed his nails in preparation.

“You should retire from all this hero nonsense and open a spa,” Glanni complimented as he watched the elf work. “You can have a gross little gym in the back or something if you want. _ĺþróttaálfurinn Gymnasium and Spa_. Nice, long, ridiculously complicated name, just like you. It’s perfect.”

“You going to join me in this little business endeavor of yours?” ĺþrót asked curiously. “ _ĺþróttaálfurinn and Glæpur Gymnasium and Spa_?”

“ _Oh, fuck no!_ I only do my own makeup!”

ĺþrót burst out laughing. He had to stop what he was doing so his relentless giggle fit wouldn’t ruin his already applied handiwork.

“What’s got _you_ so riled?” Glanni asked with an amused smirk.

The hero shook his head as he tried to calm himself down. “N-nothing. I don’t know—” He snorted. “It was just _funny_!”

Glanni gave him a look. “You need to get laid, ĺþrót. _Too bad you won’t let me!_ ”

ĺþróttaálfurinn started laughing all over again. He kissed Glanni’s forehead and snickered. “Lollipop Time later. I promise,” he managed to say.

“You’d better deliver on that,” Glanni threatened. “…only damn ‘lollipop’ I can get you to have,” he added with a grumble.

“You’d rather me have sugar meltdowns instead?” the hero asked slyly.

“I don’t know,” Glanni sighed wistfully. “Depends on if you’re into somnophilia or not.”

ĺþrót coughed abruptly, his hand jolting so much so that he drew a pink stripe straight up Glanni’s pinky. The fae just laughed as the man sheepishly reached for a tissue to fix his error. His face was beat red as he tried to pretend Glanni hadn’t said what he had just heard.

“Oh, this is why I miss you,” the criminal sighed with a flirtatious giggle.

ĺþróttaálfurinn kept his head down. “You’re the only one allowed to do something like that,” he whispered.

Glanni stared at him in surprise. “You’re serious? You’re okay with shit like that?”

The hero gave a small shrug, but didn’t look up. He tossed the now-colorful tissue in a small wastebasket nearby.

“ _Really?_ The man asked again, squinting at the elf like he was hunting for some clue to make sure that they weren’t having some kind of titanic miscommunication.

“I trust you, Glanni. So long as you’re gentle, I wouldn’t mind.”

The criminal sat back, a stunned look on his face. He passively noticed that ĺþróttaálfurinn was switching out nail polish bottles. No wonder he had skipped Glanni’s middle and ring fingers; the silly elf was trying to be fancy. Staring at his nails was a nice distraction from the strange revelation that had just passed between them. Glanni hadn’t realized that ĺþróttaálfurinn trusted him that much. His little off-handed joke suddenly didn’t feel much like one. He glanced up at his nails again and smiled at the newly added yellow.

“Aw, you know just what I like,” Glanni cooed affectionately while he watched ĺþrót finish his work.

“Just a minute,” ĺþrót mumbled before blowing gently on the man’s newly colorful nails and grabbing the pink polish again.

The patient raised an eyebrow. “What are you _doing_?” he questioned, trying to figure out if he should be worried or not.

ĺþróttaálfurinn looked up at him with a sly grin. Yep, Glanni should probably be worried.

“I just wanted to see if I could try something special. Hold still.”

ĺþrót took a knife from the boot propped up against the end of the bed, earning him a very cautious look from his companion. He took out the nail polish brush, still thick with the gooey substance, and dipped the knife’s point into it. Okay, Glanni was intrigued. He set the bottle and brush aside, then carefully maneuvered the knife’s ready-to-drip point above one of Glanni’s nails. He tapped the nail gently, curving the blade to leave a small, pink tear-shaped mark atop the vibrant yellow below.

Glanni marveled as the elf repeated the process four more times. In the end, ĺþrót left a tiny pink flower sitting happily in the middle of the fae’s left ring fingernail. It was a primitive design, sure, but for having been made by an elven knife on a whim, the design was beyond impressive.

“If you ever open that dopey spa, I am coming to you every day!” Glanni declared as he admired the elf’s artwork.

“Let it set!” ĺþrót scolded gently. “I doubt I could do that again.”

Glanni looked up at the man and grinned. “Your talent’s so potent I’m half hard already.”

“Really?” the hero teased as he started packing away Glanni’s makeup. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar. I saw that twitch,” the criminal noted with a wide, toothy grin.

ĺþróttaálfurinn’s cheeks turned pink. “How’re your wings doing?” he asked to try and change the subject.

_Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him. Glanni isn’t well enough yet. You don’t want to hurt him. Can’t lose yourself. Make sure he’s okay first. Glanni heals incredibly quickly; shouldn’t be long now._

Glanni’s frown was so deep ĺþrót could hear it in his voice. “ _Fine._ Well, I…guess they’ve been a little…cramped.” He sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get what he wanted yet. “ _Okay_ , they probably need to be groomed…definitely need to be groomed. And they ache a little,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Take them out.”

Glanni sighed and rolled his eyes, but followed ĺþrót’s orders regardless. A miniscule grunt escaped his lips as he freed his wings. They pulled away from his back, unfurling into their rosy glory…though ĺþrót swore that they had possessed a deeper, richer tone the last time he had been privileged enough to see them. They twitched, as though they needed to get reacquainted with the open air after being trapped for so long. The edges were crumpled and pale, and the hero could tell that Glanni hadn’t let the appendages breath in some time.

In a strange way, the fae may have saved his wings by concealing so regularly. ĺþrót hated to think of the further injury that may have occurred if Glanni’s attackers had known about his beautiful wings. That would have been damage ĺþróttaálfurinn could have never repaired. Even Glanni’s proficient healing abilities would have only been able to mend so much. Wings were delicate, complicated things. The price to pay for their beauty and magic, perhaps. And Glanni’s wings were beautiful indeed.

“Happy now?” the fae grumbled.

“Almost.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn got up from where he sat only to seat himself behind the fae instead. He, at first, crossed his legs to sit more comfortably, but Glanni wouldn’t have it. The man reached behind him with his left hand to grab insistently at ĺþrót’s knee to pull his leg forward.

“I don’t trust you back there. Who knows what you could be doing. You may still have that knife on you,” he mumbled, a poor excuse to request more physical contact with the elf.

The hero rolled his eyes and unfolded his legs, framing each side of his patient while Glanni did his best to scoot back as far as he could against ĺþrót. The elf tried to give key areas a bit more room, if only to stave off the distraction any contact would supply. The criminal shivered when ĺþróttaálfurinn finally touched his wings, running his fingers along their veins and edges to get a feel for what they might need. Glanni swallowed. He let his shoulders and, by extension, his wings relax under the man’s comforting touch. He absently petted at the pale fuzz on the athlete’s legs while his companion worked.

“That tickles, you know,” ĺþrót said with a smile as he carefully tried to smooth the tired edges of Glanni’s wings.

“Oh poor you,” the criminal mumbled, clearly not caring in the slightest.

They sat quietly together for some time. Glanni rather liked the feel of the elf’s gentle hands on his most delicate and vulnerable feature, although he had never said as much aloud. He got the feeling that ĺþróttaálfurinn knew anyway…he always seemed to know what Glanni liked best. It was like some strangely specific elf power the man had. ĺþrót's fingers danced slowly along the perimeter of each wing, then carefully brushed down the lengths of their interiors. It was heavenly. Glanni could feel the magic flowing  anew through the delicate extremities, like he had finally restored circulation to limbs that had fallen asleep for far too long. He could feel ĺþrót caress the edge of the thick scar tissue at the base of his right wing. The elf’s fingers danced around the area like the hero was afraid to touch it directly.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he supplied quietly. “You won’t make it any worse.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn looked over the years-old damage. The wing had done its best to recover, but the cut had been too deep, and too much of the tissue had been stolen. It was so close to the base of the wing, the literal source of Glanni’s magic. It was such a large piece…it must have been agony. ĺþrót had seen it before, of course, but viewing the damage this close nearly brought the hero to tears. Who had done this to Glanni? ĺþrót may not know everything about fairies, but he knew a flight handicap when he saw one. He could only imagine how the man must feel. Maybe that was why the fae kept his wings concealed so often, even when they were alone.

“You think loudly and you _stare_ loudly.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to,” ĺþrót said quietly.

“Well knock it off. I don’t want your pity.”

There was a pause, then “Your wings are still gorgeous.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Glanni snapped angrily.

The fae felt a soft kiss on the back of his neck and appeared to calm immediately.

“I love your wings, Glanni. I wish you would show them more often.”

The man shrugged, his wings involuntarily twitching with the action. “You love everything. You love _grass_.”

“It’s pretty,” the elf countered. “Some of it is rather tasty, too, if you can find the right kind.”

“ _Yegch!_ ”

“I could say the same thing about some of _your_ tastes,” he pointed out in amusement.

“Yes, but you’re _stupid_ ,” Glanni reminded him with a grumble.

ĺþróttaálfurinn shook his head and went back to nursing the criminal’s wings. He rubbed small circles around their bases, trying not to look at Glanni’s old wound, but finding the task impossible.

“You’re doing it again!”

Did the fae have damn eyes in the back of his head?

“I just…I worry about you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I do.”

Pause.

Glanni sighed. “I know.”

Another pause.

“May I ask what happened?” ĺþrót ventured quietly.

“Yes. But it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” Glanni swallowed. He felt his mouth open again in spite of himself. “It’s a stupid story that doesn’t really matter anyway. It’s…complicated.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

ĺþrót took a deep breath. “Whoever did it…what happened to them? If they’re still out there…” ĺthe hero’ intention to track down the bastard and bring them to justice was obvious.

Glanni was quiet for longer than the elf had expected. Finally, the fae cleared his throat.

“They…they’ve been punished,” he answered carefully. “They’ve been dealt with, don’t worry, elf. B-but given the chance, I would do it again,” he admitted with a slightly quivering voice.

Confusing scenarios floated through ĺþróttaálfurinn’s mind. Glanni’s answer didn’t sit well with him, but he convinced himself that he should stop pushing the clearly upsetting subject. Glanni, however, didn’t seem to completely agree with the sentiment.

“I do miss flying, though.”

ĺþrót looked up from where he was massaging the muscle between the fae’s wings. “Oh?”

“Y-you think they’re pretty now…you should have seen them when I flew. The way they caught the sunlight…” Glanni sighed. “They sparkled.” ĺþrót felt the man’s shoulders tighten under his hands as they continued to speak. “The wind. You should have seen me when I had long hair! I would have to spend _so_ long getting out those knots! …Oh, but it was worth it. Fuck I miss it.”

“I’m sorry, Glanni,” was all the hero managed to say.

“Not your fault.”

“I know. But I wish you didn’t have to…give all that up.”

He sighed. “Me too, but whatcha gonna do?” Glanni swallowed and looked up at the balloon overhead. “I wish they still had that sparkle,” he admitted. “Now the only way I can glitter is with sequins. …I guess I don’t even have those anymore, though. No offense, but your spare pants aren’t exactly flattering on me.”

ĺþróttaálfurinn suddenly felt peripherally guilty. He really _should_ have gone down shopping sooner. “I promised I would get you a new cat suit,” he reminded his patient quietly. “I haven’t forgotten. Once you’re healed, we can get you a new wardrobe, anything you want.” He let his hands work out the stress the criminal held onto so tightly in his back and shoulders. “B-but for what it’s worth, I _do_ think you’re incredibly handsome on your own…”

Glanni let himself smile, though sadly. “We already covered this: you’re stupid. What do you know?”

“I know a few things.”

“B-besides…you’ve been doting on me hand and foot for weeks already. Y-you’re like some little housewife out of some black and white movie, and…” Glanni’s voice hitched and it took a moment for him to regain enough confidence to speak again. “Th-this has been…nice,” he admitted near a whisper. There, he said it. “My time here, I mean. I know I complain a lot, but…but the nightmares haven’t come back since I’ve been up here. The Dream, sure, but…but not the nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” ĺþróttaálfurinn asked in immediate concern.

Glanni ignored him.

“But you’ve done _way_ more than you ever should have. I mean, you’re a hero. You haven’t done any… _heroy_ things since you brought me here. You’ve already done too much and I can’t just ask you to go and blow a fuckton of money on random shiny shit I happen to like. I may be pathetic, but…but I’m not _helpless_. Well…okay, maybe right now I sort of am, but not when it comes to that! I’ll be able to get my own crap. I’ve done it before and I can do it again, you got that?”

ĺþrót nodded in understanding. “I know, Glanni.”

“You can’t just _do_ everything for me because you like my cute little ass.”

“I know.”

“I’m a master criminal! I don’t need a fucking babysitter and I don’t need some sugar daddy to get me everything! I can handle myself, goddamnit!”

“I know.”

Glanni was quiet for a little bit, his frustrations at least verbalized now. It took him a minute to realize he didn’t feel the elf’s touch on his back anymore. He tried to glance over his shoulder to see what was happening. ĺþróttaálfurinn was leaning over the edge of the bed, his hand fishing around in a pile of clothing nearby. Nice to know the man had exerted so much energy listening to Glanni’s feelings. He grunted and turned back around, folding his arms over his chest and pouting at the air.

“Glanni?”

“ _What?_ ” the fae snapped in annoyance.

“…Here.”

“Here _what_ , you dumb…”

Glanni spotted a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over to behold ĺþrót’s hand resting near his shoulder, holding something that looked a little too familiar. Was that…? No, he was just getting ahead of himself. He reached out with his good hand and took the small black box offered to him. No, it had to be. ĺþrót had kept it all this time? That had to have been a damn decade ago. It couldn’t be. The fae held his breath and opened the box.

The pale pink stone stared up at him. Its gleam was intense enough that it almost felt like the dumb little rock was trying to accuse him of murder. Glanni couldn’t look away. It was just as beautiful as he remembered: the golden band, the pink-tinted gem, the pair of tiny diamonds resting on each side of the ring’s centerpiece. It was just as perfect now as it had been years earlier. And ĺþróttaálfurinn had kept it with him all that time.

“I…I thought m-maybe you could sell it,” Glanni heard from behind him. ĺþrót’s voice cracked ever so slightly as he spoke. “It’s n-not much, but…maybe it can help you replace a couple of things. You can find something beautiful to wear. S-something sparkly. I-it isn’t a handout, b-by the way. It’s yours, n-not mine. I’ve just held it f-for you n case…” A sigh. “You can do with it what you will.”

Stupid elf. Stupid goddamn fucking elf.

Glanni had hurt ĺþrót so many times over the decades they had known one another. But nothing had compared to when he ran. He didn’t understand why, but the elf cared so much about him. So much that he had offered Glanni a ring. This ring. And the fae had stomped on him. He had thought that would be the end of things, right then and there…but the next time they met, ĺþrót treated him just as he had before. Only now did Glanni realize how the hero must have been in such agony putting up such a front. Oh, gods, ĺþrót would have been better off if Glanni had run him through with a damn blade instead.

He wiped his eyes. His hands trembled as he cradled the small box. ĺþróttaálfurinn had never given up on him. In all the years they had known one another, ĺþrót always encouraged him to do better, was always willing to be there if called upon, always…came back. Glanni had run away. He always ran away, didn’t he? Glanni certainly _ran_ more than anyone so lazy had a right to. He didn’t deserve ĺþrót, but…but the daft hero…oh, Glanni had hurt the man so much in trying to save them both from himself. He may not deserve ĺþróttaálfurinn, but the elf didn’t deserve all Glanni had done because of that.

And he wanted the stupid hero so much. In spite of running, in spite of knowing he was undeserving. He wanted ĺþrót.

Glanni carefully pulled the ring from its resting place. He hadn’t so much as touched it last time. It was lighter than he had expected. Oh, and it was so pretty. The fae let out a slow, calculated breath. He looked down at the little flower ĺþrót had painted on his nail earlier and smiled. Funny that the colors matched so well. He slipped the ring over the flower, up his finger, and smiled.

“Glanni? Wh-what are you…?”

The fae folded down his wings and leaned back against the elf’s chest. He reached back around as best he could to pull ĺþróttaálfurinn’s arms forward, where he held the man’s hands against his pale chest. The elf was shaking a little, too.

“But...that’s so you can…”

Glanni cut him off by picking up the emptied black box and tossing it over the wall of the basket. He nestled back against the athlete and looked down to admire the ring sitting on his finger.

“No, I think I’ll keep it,” Glanni said softly. “It shines more than any of the old shit I had anyway. Besides, it matches my makeup.”

ĺþrót started making a quivering sound somewhere between a sniffle and a giggle as he buried his face into the side of Glanni’s neck. He hugged the fae gently, his arms shaking a bit more now. Glanni smiled and gave them a squeeze. His neck felt a bit moist.

“You okay back there?” Glanni asked gently.

“Y-yeah,” ĺþrót whispered. Then, after a minute or so, he asked “Would you like your—heh— _Lollipop Time_ now?”

Glanni considered it briefly, then shook his head and let his ear rest against the elf’s soft hair. “In a little bit, maybe. I’m comfortable here for now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This might go into definitely NSFW territory. These boys, man...


End file.
